This is perhaps one of the most difficult entries I have ever written. I have sat down to write this on numerous occasions but each time I did my emotions got the best of me and I left the blank page. But in difficult times we should not shy away from doing the hard things. Instead it is the hard things that make us who we are.

I am writing today about a person I have wanted to write about on countless occasions over the past decade but each time I suggested to this person that I was going to write about him I was given a stern lecture about how I needed to focus my message on the game of baseball and on the Arizona Diamondbacks and not about him. Begrudgingly I would lower my head and nod promising I would respect his wishes. But now it is time to tell his story and I pray that I will do it justice.

We have lost a great man. Tom Springer passed away at his home in mid-June after a valiant battle against cancer. Those who knew him loved him and our lives were enriched in so many ways by this gentle man.

During the 2009 season I met Tom at a Diamondbacks game. I did not know him by name but knew his face. He was one of those people I would see at every game. Another diehard fan who obviously had season tickets and attended nearly every game.

Our meeting was strange to say the least. At the time I was writing for the Diamondbacks gameday magazine. I had an article every issue called Summers in the Seats. It was a fan’s perspective of the game and the team. To most people it was a fluff piece talking about something happening at the games or with the team but from a fan’s perspective. It was a creative outlet for me and a way for the D-backs to fill a page in their program. Besides my family I honestly didn’t think anyone was actually reading it.

Before this particular game as I was looking over the field from the concourse, Tom walked up to me and simply said, “I have an article idea for you.” This was not a normal occurrence for me, and I’ll admit now it freaked me out a little bit. The puzzled look on my face likely amused Tom. He then went on to give me several ideas of what I could write about in future issues. The ideas were great, but I still was having a difficult time grasping this whole conversation. I somehow stammered a thank-you and casually mentioned that perhaps we were related because as I said earlier, only my family reads my articles.

After that meeting Tom would come up to me and give me ideas or suggestions. He was always polite and friendly. Tom was definitely on my radar after that. His seats were in Section 133 in row 1 just behind the wall. I would watch him from a distance. He was always clapping for the players and talking to the relief pitchers as they made their way to the bullpen. Children would come running down the aisles at the sight of players stopping along the wall. Tom would always make sure the kids were seen. If they didn’t have a pen, he would give them one and remind them to be sure to say please and thank-you for the autographs. He also seemed to have a hidden stash of baseballs for those kids who didn’t have anything for the player to sign. Tom was the equivalent of baseball Santa Claus.

When Salt River Fields was built, I was one of the first people to put money down on Spring Training season tickets. I remember going to the training facility during seat selection to find where I would be sitting all spring. I picked seats just above the Diamondbacks dugout. When I arrived for Opening Day at Salt River Fields, I was surprised to find that Tom had the seats directly behind me. We spent every game talking about the Diamondbacks and baseball in general. Tom was a fountain of knowledge and a master of pun (sorry, a bad habit I picked up from Tom over the years and yes that was intentional).

Whether it was a Spring Training game, regular season, or on rare occasions a post season game; Tom was always one of the first people through the gates to the stadium. Over the years I watched him. He had a very specific pre-game ritual he would follow. He would visit as many Guest Relations staff, on-field staff, security, and anyone else associated with either the team or the venue and would strike up a conversation. He made the rounds every game checking in with people and learning something new. He would usually have a Subway sandwich before the game followed by a large yogurt (we had to promise never to tell his doctor or his girlfriend Jill about the ice cream he would say with a sparkle in his eye).

When there were giveaways at the stadium Tom always would get them but instead of building a shrine of gameday trinkets he would save them and give to teachers or charities that they could use as fundraisers. He told me he was not a collector, but I don’t believe that is true. Tom collected information and he collected friends and he had one of the greatest collections of anyone I have ever known.

After a few years, Tom gave up his seat in Section 133 Row 1 and moved to sit next to me knowing full well I would never move my seat (hey, I would have to rename my blog if I did). We would both get to Chase Field early and talk before the game then we would talk all through the game. The funny thing is I don’t think we ever talked about the same thing twice. Although a lot of what we talked about was baseball, there were also other subjects too. He rarely talked about himself. I used to tease him that if I didn’t know any better, I would think he was in the witness protection program. That would always get me a sly smile making me wonder if perhaps I was right.

What I did learn about Tom’s past was that he worked for IBM for many years on the OS/2 team and he would sometimes tell stories about that life. He was also in politics having been a city councilman and a mayor in California. That somehow seemed to fit. From the moment I got to know Tom I referred to him as the mayor of Chase Field. I would not have been surprised to see “Vote for Tom” stickers on my seats or see him shaking hands and kissing babies before the game started.

As many of you know, I am active on social media mostly just to have fun and joke around. Tom on the other hand had very little to do with social media. But because I was, he joined and followed me. During the game I would send something out. In many cases he would see it before I sent it and warn me that I was about to get in trouble with a particular comment. He was my personal censorship filter (although he was not as successful as either of us would have liked). Rather than keep me out of trouble I am not sure Tom didn’t push buttons just to see how far things would go then laugh when I get in too deep.

In 2012, umpire Jim Joyce was working Chase Field when a stadium employee for the Diamondbacks collapsed. Joyce performed CPR and literally saved the woman’s life. The day after that happened, Tom showed up at the stadium with a large sign for Joyce declaring him a hero. Joyce was embarrassed at the praise, but Tom never let him forget that there were people in the stands that appreciated what he had done. That’s just the kind of person Tom was. He always cared for others.

During each off-season Tom and I would connect with an email or a text especially whenever something significant happened (significant has its own special meaning between us, it could be as simple as a transaction by a team or even a joke one of us thought the other would enjoy).

At the last game at Chase Field last season Tom tried to give me back the seat cushion that my wife Trina had made for him. For those who don’t know, my wife Trina builds incredible seat cushions that have more bells and whistles than a fully loaded Tesla. Although many people have asked her to make them a seat cushion she politely declines. They are very labor intensive because I over-engineered them to death. But for Seat Cushion 4.0 she made three instead of the usual two. She made one for Tom. I always used to kid them that Trina saved Tom’s butt 83 games a year. So, we were startled when he tried to return the cushion. He said he didn’t think he was going to renew his season tickets for 2020. Tom and I were both disappointed at the way last season ended and I thought this was just his frustration at missing the playoffs. Trina and I insisted that he keep the seat cushion and I promised I would get him back to Chase Field.

During the Arizona Fall League, I would see Tom and we would talk and joke and analyze each prospect to determine who would make next year’s team in Spring Training. Tom seemed himself again laughing and throwing out occasional puns as he always does. At the end of the fall league we said good-bye and I told him I would see him at Salt River Fields.

As the off-season wore on, I would send Tom a text message or an email. But this time they went unanswered. By mid-January I was starting to wonder if there may be something amiss. I knew Tom was a private person and I didn’t want to overstep our friendship, but it didn’t seem quite normal. I continued to send him messages hoping that he may just be busy without baseball taking up his time.

I checked in with him again around the time of FanFest seeing if he would be going to Chase Field and if he wanted to meet. Instead of a response from Tom I received a message from his girlfriend Jill saying Tom was not doing well. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was going through and had locked himself away from the world. Jill was going to see if she could get Tom to respond.

A few days later I received an email. The last email I would get from a dear friend. He went into detail of what he was going through. The cancer was aggressive and his time in this world was short. He was focusing his strength on Jill and what he could do for her in the time they had left. Every word of that email brought tears to my eyes. Here was perhaps the best friend I have in my life and he was going through such pain and misery, yet he didn’t ask for anything.

He thanked me for my friendship and for the good time we had. He asked that I respect his privacy and not email, call, or text. This was his good-bye. He said that when his time was finally up, he would have a box of what D-backs mementos he had shipped to my house along with a seat cushion. Then I would know he was gone. Even writing this I get choked up thinking about him and what it must have been like.

Each time a delivery truck would stop in front of my house I would feel my stomach tense up worrying that this would be the day that I lost a friend. I dreaded every package that came to my door. In the end, it was a phone call from Jill telling us of Tom’s passing. The pain at the end was nearly unbearable but Tom did so with all the strength he could muster.

I was reminded of the last email he sent me. He told me that he was leaving the Diamondbacks in my hands. It was up to me to make sure they did things right. He challenged me to be the voice of the fans and help the team find a way to bring them back to the ballpark. His one request was that the team get back to the World Series and win another championship. And when my time on this earth is finally up and I reach heaven, I am to find him, and we can catch up on all the things he missed.

There have been so many times since his passing that I think of something and reach for my phone to send him a quick note or share a tweet I was thinking of sending. I wanted to get his take on something or just share a common love of baseball. But then I stop and remind myself that he’s not there for me. He’s not there for Trina or for Jill or any of the countless other friends he left behind.

It feels like such a deep hole left behind not having Tom in our lives. But then I think about his wit, his passion, his knowledge, his loving personality and that hole is filled with the love that we all have for this great man.

I’ll keep following baseball and I will make sure to keep sending suggestions and good thoughts to the Diamondbacks to build their brand and teach others how important baseball is to everyone. When we finally get back to normalcy where we can attend games, I will yell at those people who stand up and don’t pay attention when a left-handed hitter is up to bat warning them of the dangers a foul ball can be. I’ll yell not because I can’t see but because like Tom, I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.

At the end of each regular season the Diamondbacks recognize those we have lost during the season. With the pandemic all around us and the possibility that there will be no one in the stands at all this season I wanted to make sure Tom was remembered. He was one of the best friends I have ever had, and I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

Take care my friend and I look forward to the day that we will meet again and share a conversation and a baseball game. And just like you asked, I’ve given my loved ones a hug.